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Old Friends, New Troubles
'Bedroom - ' ---- ::A cozy, comfortable affair, this bedroom is tucked into a corner of the house, behind an oaken door. The walls are painted with a cream-colored paint, and a high window is set in the wall across from the door, looking out into the street and framed by heavy maroon curtains, to be drawn shut for privacy. Against one wall, is a bed, just large enough for two and covered with rather comfortable sheets, while opposite it stands a fireplace, lit on the coldest nights to keep the room toasty, and just by the bed is a rug to protect bare feet. There is little decoration in the room - just enough to make it appear quite lived in. ---- Sandrim is sitted on the edge of his bed, where Taran is out cold, eating a pie. Ziavri is nearby, doing something. Muri enters the bedroom on soft feet, a tray in her hand. "G'eve, Messer," she says. "e still sleepin' aye?" She bustles over to the bedside and settles in to clean and dress wounds. "He was awake for a little bit earlier," Sandrim says with a shrug. "He's... getting better, I think." Muri gently rolls the bard on his side and checks the bandages on the man's back. "Mmm..." she murmurs. "Ah 'opes so, Messer. 'E haint said nofin' t' me all day, not even dreamin'." She shakes her head and glances back at Sandrim. "'ow ye farin, Messer? Must'a been a shock seein' 'im so." Sandrim smiles wryly. "You should have seen him after the tentacles got to him," he says. "This... is nothing. He'll recover. Muri eased Taran on his back once more and covered him with a blanket. "Ten'acles?" she asks. "Dis were arrows, aye? Ten'acles are worse? Wot dem?" She settles onto a stool and starts bathing the bard's face with a damp cloth. Sandrim shakes his head. "Mm, I think we should just let that be," he says. "Maybe I'll tell you another time." He stands up. "For now... I think we should let him rest?" Muri nods and tucks the blankets around the sleeping man. She stands and gathers her materials. "Aye me, tis so," she says. "Ah seen ye got somefin' t'eats dere, so's Ah guess Ah don' gotta worry fer ye." She heads toward the door. Sandrim grins and stands. "Not just yet," he says, finishinig his meal before turning to follow. ---- '''Greenhouse - ' ---- ::A strange front room for any dwelling, this greenhouse is put together to feel quite welcoming, if a little odorous. Tall walls surround the large, hexagonal room, made of sturdy birch, allowing for privacy and plenty of space overhead, and spanning the tops of these walls is a glass ceiling, supported by a wooden honeycomb lattice which casts its shadows over the floor. The ground itself is separated into four quadrants by a pebble path running through the greenhouse, cruciform in shape. Vegetable gardens fill three of these quadrants, all supporting healthy patches throughout the year, while the fourth quadrant is a small, grass-covered hump, with a wooden table at its top. ::''Four doors leave this greenhouse, one at each end of the paths, to a bedroom, a kitchen, a bath, and the exit to the street opposite the bed. By the street exit are a few racks and chests, filled with gardening tools and materials. ---- Muri moves to a basin of water on a nearby table and washes her hands. After putting her bandages away, she looks over to Sandrim. "Didja evah talk wid yer folk up at Road's End dere, Messer?" she asks. "Ah gone up t'seen ye, but los' ye ag'in af'ter dem thievers were in Aegisport." Sandrim frowns. "I left, pretty fast," he says as he continues on for the door. "Didn't want to stay home too long, and... nothing seemed to be going on." Muri picks up her pack and follows. "Ah'm glad nufin' ill gone by fer dem," she says. Sandrim smiles faintly. "Well, they still have to deal with dad." Muri chuckles. "Ah knowd 'ow dat go," she says. "Till me da took ill, 'e was de terror o'our 'ouse." She sighs and continues on. Sandrim smiles a small bit. "Dad is just... Well, he's an old Bladesman." Muri nods. "Not much diff'r'nt den a Miller, by de sound o'it," she says. Nearby a half built house stands near a darkened one. "Looks lahk dey've done some work whilst Ah was gone. Ah bes' check on dat in de morn." Sandrim tilts his head to the side. "Your home?" Muri nods. "Aye," she says proudly, then continues on to the Basin. ---- '''Snowfall Basin - ' ---- ::Located in the north-western quarter of Crown's Refuge, the area known as Snowfall Basin is quite an impressive sight indeed. Delicately balancing nature with culture, Snowfall Basin maintains the Syladris population of the freehold by providing them with a large area that remains suited to needs that have only recently been discovered. ::''Set around the basin itself - a bowl-shaped cold water depression carved into the surface of the bluff that Crown's Refuge sits atop - it is unusual by just how much it differs from the Human residences just towards the east. Open-air pavilions and gazebos provide much of the structures that the Syladris call home, while leather tents scattered between these more permanent structures offer a more suitable means of privacy than the depths of the water should such things be required. ::''A number of deciduous and evergreen species of tree have been planted amidst the area, turning the "Syaldris Quarter" into one small forest around the large stretch of water. Some pavilions stand taller than others, indicative of status within the newly forged cultural identity that the Syladris are attempting to shape, though all that can be seen feature flowing couches and benches that serve to adequately support and provide comfort for such an unusual half-breed race when they're not otherwise coiled around an overhanging branch or lost beneath ripples of icy water. ::''A blanket of fallen leaves and short, lush grasses surround the basin and the various structures and statues that inhabit the area, all contained within a short marble wall that defines the perimeter of this large region of natural beauty and architecture. Paved trails leading towards the east and south lead back to their respective pathways, while the shadow of Tempest Spire looms ever-present towards the southeast. ---- Sandrim is just walking into the basin, Muri by him. "Mm. Seems a number are moving out here." Muri nods. "Ah knowd," she says. "Messer Griedan an' de Missus are gonna build 'ere soon too. Ah 'opes t'visit wid dem soon." She gazes over the basin, her breath catching. "Ah'm sorry, Ah jus' caint git used t'de Shrine bein' gone, so." Whatever else the basin may be, it is never /quiet/. But at least this time... well. Aeseyri himself isn't immediately visible, unless one gets close to that tent he calls home. There, fully four feet of tail sticks out into the path worn nearby, twitching in slow waves. Within the tent, there is a slow shifting, a curious noise - and then. Well. Hard to say without seeing. A hiss, though. Sandrim shrugs a small bit as they walk down one of the paths. "It will be rebuilt," he says. "That's one of the nice things about buildings." Muri chuckles. "Aye, dat be true," she says. "Ah'll pitch in w'en dey get a'goin'." Her gaze falls to Aeseryi's tent and she hesitates, eyes blinking. "Could'a be?" She quickens her steps, her pack bouncing against her back. "Aeseryi!" she calls. "Ye 'ome?!" That tail stops moving, stiffens, then coils - Aes's head coming out into the dim with crimson eyes blinking, moving back along his own body in a remarkable display of flexibility. "Muri?" And the smile is sunshine, the blackscale darting out of the tent with the speed only a Syladris can muster so quickly, heading /right/ for her. Sandrim steps slightly to one side, not wanting to get caught. "Hello, Aes." Muri's pack drops from her shoulders and she opens her arms wide, face beaming happily. "Aye me!" she says. "Yer 'ere!" WHUMP. THAT is a full-body, nearly full-speed pouncing of the highest order, Aes wrapping happily around Muri (and dragging her down into the grass if she's not careful) - laughing, then - "Yesss. I am here. If I were here I could not hug you and that would be very odd becausssse I am." quite serious, that. "Hello Sssandrim!" Sandrim tucks his hands into his pockets, smiling a small bit. "You doing alright?" Muri tumbles right along with the syladris, giggling merrily. "Uft!" she exclaims, eyes twinkling. "Den Ah'm glad yer 'uggin' me!" She cranes her neck and plants a soft kiss on his chin. "Light and Luck, Ah been missin' ye!" Nonono. Chinkissings do /not do/. So for just a moment, there's a far, far more serious sort of kissing that takes its place, Aes utterly shameless in that moment. Happy. And only after it's gone on long enough to be /worth something/ does he break off to look up at Sandrim, happily. "I am very well now. Did you sssee the leavesss? They are /changing color/ - it isss not ssso green but it isss very beautiful and you were right." "Everything goes in circles," Sandrim says with a slight nod. "They'll be green again in... Well, months." And the cook? Swoony. Definitely swoony. Muri's eyes remain closed as she savors this kiss. "Mmm...see," she murmurs. "Ah thin' de leaves lookin' lahk yer eyes dis time o'year. Right fine fer 'memberin' ye by wen Ah'm gone." And Aes happily curls up there, on the grass, mostly around Muri - showing absolutely no sign of letting go, at the moment. "It isss a thing I remember from waking, when the sssun came through treesss of orange and yellow and there wasss a great field of gold - but there wass no green at all." He pauses, tracing a fingertip over Muri's cheek. "it isss well - it would not be nicsse to be forgotten." Sandrim steps away from the couple, dropping onto the grass before the basin and staring out at the reflections of moons on water. Muri smiles and trembles excitedly. "Den tis yer birfthday soon!" she says. "We needs t'celebrate yer 'wakening, aye? Ah c'n make pies an' such fer it, an' yer frens could come." She looks around and nods to the song willow. "We could 'ave it right 'neath there an' mayhaps Missus Zia an' Messer Taran could make music an' we could 'ave dancin'!" She leans into the crook of Aeseryi's arm. "Ah won' evah fergit ye, me fren'." "Thisss isss good - but Sssandrim.." A pause, thoughtful, the Blackscale watching the fellow for a moment, "You are sssad? It isss a good day - why isss it you would not sssmile?" A pause, then his eyes go wide. "It isss becausse I have not hugged you and I am sssory I did not think and you will pleasse not be angry?" Oh, contrite snake, coils contracting for a moment before he slowly starts unwinding himself from Muri, clear in his intent on rectifying this apparent gaffe. "No, it's not that," Sandrim says, shaking his head. "Just thinking. Taran got himself hurt again, and then there are things happening back home." Muri rolls away to facilitate Aes's move toward Sandrim, landing on her stomach and cradling her chin in her hand. "Aye," she murmurs, sobering. "'e do need a 'ug, Aeseryi, an' lahk as not 'e'd take it better from ye den me." Her eyes twinkle with teasing. "But dere's worryin' fer Messer Taran t'be sure. 'e haint awakened as yet, but Ah'm 'opeful soon." Aes moves over to coil once around Sandrim, to hug him firmly /anyway/, as best he can. "There isss a ssstory that a woman told about a girl and a kisss that woke her - perhapsss you ssshould kiss him and maybe there will be good thingsss and he will wake?" And. yes. that's serious. Sandrim blinks at Aeseyri, then chuckles a little. "Perhaps," he says, hugging the syladris back. "But he can still wake on his own. Right now, he really does just need sleep." Muri grins. "Aye, sleeps, den afore ye knowd it, 'e'll be back to 'is serious selves ag'in," she says. "Dat man carry too many burdens alone fer de good o'im. Oughta shares some wid folk dat caers, den mayhaps 'e'd be 'appier." She picks up a crisp leaf and twirls it around, thoughtfully. Aeseyri kisses Sandrim's cheek, gently, then smiles and disengages, moving back Muri's way. It's not far to go. "It isss the way of sssome." He lowers himself to peer curiously at that leaf, head tilting. "Perhapsss you are both here for a little while?" Oh, that's hopeful. Sandrim blinks, turning to look back at Muri. "He does, though," he says, before nodding to Aes. "A little at least. I may be going back to visit my father, soon enough." The trio is near the basin, Sandrim sitting a little closer to it. Muri nods. "Aye," she says to Aeseryi. "Ah gotta finish buildin' me 'ouse afore de snows come. Ah'll only leave if'n Messer Sandrim 'ere needs me t'elp 'im an' 'is folks." She leans on Aeseryi. "But Ah 'opes dat won' be fer a more den a little bit." She looks quite content there, next to the syladris. The blackscale's tail has a mind of its own, draping over Muri in two or three spots as he stays close. "It isss good. who isss your father, Sssandrim?" Curious /indeed/. Griedan wanders down the pathway towards the basin and once here has to take special care to avoid stepping on tails. He doesn't seem to just yet notice the three friends by the basin, but instead has stopped, looking at the burned shrine and listening to the song of the willow as it wafts through the air on sweet melody. "Keldarin Oakleaf," Sandrim responds with a shrug. "Blacksmith up at Road's End. Utterly unpleasable as well." "Must 'as lotta fear, yer da," Muri muses. "Sounds lahk me de an' bro' bofth. Still tis kin, aye? An' sometimes worfth de troubles. Doh oft Ah'm glad me kin don' caer fer me no mores." She sighs. "It isss very odd - it isss very sspecssial, thesse familiesss you have.." Aeseyri wrestles with this thought a moment, "Yet it isss asss though you do not care for them very much? It isss not a good thing to have familiess?" Griedan remains looking at the wrecked shrine a bit longer before he starts to wander towards the basin himself. Carried upon slow, lunbering steps he looks to be walking up to the Song Willow itself. Sandrim frowns. "I care for him," he says. "Just... from a distance." Muri rolls over and tucks her hands behind her head, looking skyward. "Tis good, tis ill, tis bofth, tis neither," she says. "Dats wot makes 'em family. Ye love 'em fierce e'en wen dey 'it ye, but knowin' too ye caint change 'em. Sorta lahk de folk 'ere in de Refuge. We all workin' t'gether, aye, but sometimes we squabble 'bout small thins too. Tis de way o'our folk, Ah 'spects." "It isss very odd. I have alwaysss wissshed to have one, but it isss a thing you ssseem not to often wisssh. Or perhapsss it isss that it isss a thing I am not meant to underssstand." Aes happily tucks in close to Muri, blinking. Griedan turns his attention away from the tree a moment to catch the sight of a familiar Syladris. He almost smiles as his feet carry him over to the trio seated by the basin. "It's... complicated," Sandrim says with a shrug. "And sounds a little petty I guess. It's just my father, he wanted me to become him. Former blade. Swordsman to make the Grandmaster himself put his blade up in shame." He frowns, looking down at the pool. "And... there'd always been a bit of tension. I cared for him. Didn't want to be him. So I left." Muri tilts her head and regards syladris carefully. "Ye wants a family o'yer own, Aeseryi?" she asks, wonder in her voice. "Lahk our folk do, two people's pledged ferevers, come wot may?" A bit of tremble, there too, but hard to say if it's excitement or nervousness. Zia comes into view from the east, a little tired looking, but apparently cheerful nonetheless. She stops near the edge of the Basin, scanning the evening's crowd--typical Syladris and Wildlander mix, laughter and storytelling and tents and so on, interspersed only with the faintest traces of fire. For now, she hasn't spotted the familiar bunch. Aes kisses Muri's nose once, with a soft laugh, "I wisssh a father and mother and brothersss and sssisstersss and cousssins and all of thesse thingsss. Isss thiss why there isss thisss marriage? It isss a thing that makesss more sssensee then." He tilts his head, and draws a breath, and then is distracted by a /glow/. "Griedan!" And though he doesn't go zooming off that way, his smile is bright. Griedan forces a smile on his face for Aeseyri as he nears. "'Ello meh frien'." the mountainous sunkissed mason replies. "'S good t' see yeh 'gain. 'Ow 'ave yeh been? Seems what that w're t' b' neighbers, aye. Will b' buildin mehself a 'ouse no' far 'way soon." Muri and Sandrim recieve a wave in greeting as well. Sandrim quirks a small smile as he stands. "Everyone's moving out here," he notes. "Alright, take care all of you. I'm gonna head on home." Muri lifts her chin, the top of her head resting on the ground and her eyes gazing on Griedan-walking-upside-down. "G'eve!" she calls to the Sunkissed mason. "'ave ye foun' some land, Messer?" She looks to an also upside-down-Sandrim. "G'night, Messer. Come fin' me if'n Messer Taran wakes an' ye needs 'elp, aye?" "Yess? It will be good - you will not leave then? Perhapsss you will let me sssee the little one sssome and I will help and it will be nicssse and how are you becausse I have not sssen you in very long.." Aes actually draws a breath, and, delighted, squeezes Muri just a bit. "Will it be a pretty houssse? It will not have ssstairss?" Meandering through, Zia's eyes eventually alight on the little group--Sandrim's movement away from it is what attracts her attention, actually. Smiling, she lifts a hand to wave greeting. No, she's not shouting yet--no need to wake up those few Basin-residents who actually *are* sleeping, right? "Taran?" Griedan asks Muri, surprised. "Wha' d' yeh mean 'bout 'im wakin' up?" He sounds suddenly somewhat concerned. Still, Aes gets a more genuine smile. "Yeh can stop beh an' see li'l Taran all yeh wan', Aessseyri." he informs the blackscale, drawing out the 's' in the name as his people do. "'S been t' long, aye, but n' mere. I'm stayin' 'ere mere er less, movin' out 'ere fer good, Adri an' I, an' I'm settin' up shop. I put 'way th' armor an' mace. I'm done fightin' fer other people's causes." Muri turns over, curling to a sitting position and looking up to Griedan. "Yer not gonna be a'Ordin'ator no mores, Messer?" she asks, worry in her voice. "Ah'm glad yer gonna be neighborly, but Missus Adriana tol' me twas yer dream t'be a pries'?" She blinks, recalling his earlier question. "Messer Taran come back from de Wilds 'urt, Messer. Bad 'urt. Ah've been tendin' 'im, but 'e haint woken yet. Messer Sandrim lookin' after 'im fer nows, but Ah'm 'elpin wid wot 'ealin' measure Ah gots. Ah 'opes 'e'll be well soon." Reaching the group now, Zia hovers at the fringes of it to take in who's there, exactly. "Evening?" She smiles a bit. Aes is there, curled around Muri - Griedan as well, glowing nearby. "The ordinatorsss are thossse in armor that shiness who are very ssseriousss all of the time? It isss besst you are not one becaussse they do not ssmile." He nods, once. "Hello, Zssia!" And Aes frees a hand to hold it out to her. "It hasss been very long and I am sssory there isss no pie." "Well, seems what that they're par' o' 'nother group now." Griedan tries to explain, but pauses at Aeseyri's sudden outburst greeting Ziavri, but after a wave to the minstrel, continues. "I wan'ed t' join b'cause I felt t'was th' bes' way what that I could make use o'... o' this." he shakes his hands, indicating the white aura that surrounds him. "But th' Warpries' felt what that I wasna wortheh t' join." He shrugs his shoulders. "S' it doesna realleh ma'er. Maybeh th' Light, She, jus' made a m'stake in choosin' me." Muri reaches a gentle hand to the stonesmith. "Messer, *She* ne'er makes mistakes," she says, quietly. "Tis our folk dat don' see rightly wot She dun made. Nay, Ah 'spects She got better thin's fer ye t'do 'ere. Mayhaps if'n d'Lady Celeste makes dat chapel 'ere she was wantin', why, ye could teach some?" Before he can answer, she hears Aeseryi's call to Zia. "Aye me, g'eve, Missus. Ah'm glad t'seen ye. 'ave ye checkd on Messer Taran? 'E twas sleepin' las' Ah seen 'im." Zia grins at Aes, leaning forward to accept the hand. "Ai, no pie? That means I'll get to go to bed something other than sticky tonight. And aye, too long." Turning to Muri, she nods. "Aye. He woke up for a little this afternoon to drink some water and talk, then out again. Still sleeping, as far as I know." She shrugs. And Griedan? With a sly bit of a smile, she offers him a wave that's a near perfect mimicry of his own. Aeseyri tugs, hoping for a hug, it seems. "Griedan? ssshe chossse well in you. I know - becaussse it isss who you are. Who isss thisss perssson to judge worth in otherss? It isss not for a 'priessst of war' to sssee. Becaussse ssshe isss not what sssort of hate it isss that would bring war, yesss?" "Aye Muri, 's what Tshepsi said as well, bu' still..." Griedan trails off and shakes his head. "Sh' was th' 'ead o' th' 'perial cult in Fas'eld, Aeseyri, an' far mere blessed beh 'Er than I am, aye. Warpries' though, s' jus' a name o' a ti'le, both 'ead pries' an' warrior. As fer 'Er chosin', 'twas not somethin' I chose 'course, but... ifn 't were an' I knew then wha' I know now... 's a choice I wouldna make." Muri chuckles and withdraws her hand from Griedan's arm. "Ah've been busy wid tendin' 'urt folk, Ah haint 'ad time t'bake a proper pie," she say. "Ah'll 'ave t'remedy dat first light now dat Ah knowd yer 'ome ag'in, Aeseryi." She nods to Zia. "Ah'm glad 'e took some water, Missus. Git 'im t'drink some brofth next time, aye? Did 'e tol' ye wot 'append t'im?" "Ai!" Zia lets out a startled laugh as Aeseyri pulls her forward into the hug, but submits to it well enough, returning it lightly. "I swear, you're going to pull my arm right off one of these days," she warns, mock-reproachfully as she rubs her perfectly-uninjured arm. Still grinning a bit, she resettles herself as she looks back to Muri again, and nods. "I can try... assuming I can figure out what to put in it that's not going to poison him," she says, making a face. "And he did. Said he'd run into some archers in the Silent Forest, and they didn't get along terribly well." Aes laughs warmly, and hugs firmly, with a contented sigh. "I will not hurt you, Zssia." But he does let her go, in the end, staying snuggled up with Muri. But most of his words are for Griedan: "Ssshe doesss not bless one over another. It isss very sssilly to think ssso." Aes actually laughs, softly - "Who isss 'better'? What isss 'more'? She doesss not love thossse that do not glow lesss than Ssshe lovess you - " The syladris lets the tip of his tail go out to nudge at Griedan's leg - "Ssshe hasss gifted you with what it isss you need to do what it isss you are meant to do, what your heart ssspeaksss for. It iss no more, and no lesss – and to sssay there isss 'better' or 'worsse' isss to not underssstand. do you sssee?" "Wha' I see, Aes, is that E'ereh other o' 'Er blessed what that I 'ave met 'as 'ad a 'and in murder er tryin' t' murder 'nother." Griedan tells Aeseyri, ignoring the nudge upon his leg. "Meh 'eart speaks confusion Aesssseyri. "Well, I guess what that 's not 'tireleh true. I dunna think what that Lord Varal 'as d'rteh'd 'imself like that." Griedan recants after a moment's second-thought. "Bu' still, 'e is th' 'unleh other 'un what that I met what doesna 'ave th' blood o' 'nother on their 'ands." Muri chuckles to Zia. "Ah'll leave some broth a brewin' on Messer Sandrim's stove, Missus," she says. "Just let it cool a bit afore 'e drink it. No need ye worryin' fer more den ye should." She sighs. "Ah'm jus' glad dat it don' look lahk dem arrows were poisoned none." At the mention of blood and murder, Muri looks abruptly to Griedan, her face blanching. "Bein' Kissed haint no firmness t'be a killer, Messer," she says quietly. "Nor tis 'avin' no Kiss a'tall..." Her gaze unfocuses as she looks into the distance, curling herself up, knees to her chin. What mirth she had before has fled. "Then perhapsss it isss your purpossse to be better than they." Aes says that, gently - "To choosse a different path. Ssshe doesss not forcsse any to a path. It isss not Her way." The Syladris leans over to thieve a gentle kiss from Muri, then slowly untangles himself, murmering to her - "Will you ssstay?" With a smile - but it is a suddenly very tired smile. To the other two, he simply says - "Tomorrow there isss work to fixss the sshrine, and there isss hurting that comesss from work already. I mussst sssleep." It is very, very apologetic. Zia's brow knits as Muri curls. Confusion? Possibly. Concern? Most definitely. She reaches out a hand to lightly brush Muri's before a faint, wry smile comes to her. That would be the contemplation of the actual statement hitting home. "There are... a great many things I could say right now that I really shouldn't. I've no particular desire to be branded a heretic." Zia nods, belatedly, to Aes, lifting a hand to wave. "Aye. Rest well, then." Griedan winces and looks down at his feet. "Should b' a night fer 'njoyin' frien's, not speakin' 'bout such thin's. I'm sorreh, please dunna let m' d'sturb yeh, meh friends. I'll jus'... leave yeh in peace. Good nigh'." With that, Griedan starts to back away to take a seat underneath the leaves of the song willow. Muri returns Aes's kiss softly, drawing comfort from his touch. She nods as he slips away. "Aye," she says to him. "Ah'll be right dere, me fren'." She glances at Zia and smiles wanly with gratitude. "Haint none 'ere wid a stick a wood fer fire, Missus. Doubtful any would take kind t'brandin' ye anythin'." She winks at the woman. "Mayhaps Ah'll seen ye tomorrows? Ah'll try to check on Messer Taran at leas' once 'er twice." Stands and moves to Griedan's side. "We don' gotta grieve alones, Messer, not wen we gots such in common, aye? Ah gotta sleeps now too, but if'n yer abouts, mayhaps we c'n talk mores, aye?" She gives him a half-smile, then turns toward Aes's tent. Zia wrinkles her nose. "Ai. You'd be surprised, I think." She smiles, though. "Thank you... for helping Taran? Light's keep." She watches Griedan go, with a small sigh. "You don't disturb. Not me, at least... not much disturbs me, really. But Light's Keep, if you're going." ---- ''Return to Season 7 (2008) Category:Logs